Heiress of Weapon X
by Nimarah
Summary: What if Weapon X left behind something important when they disbanded? Something like . . . a daughter?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men, sadly, and I get no money from this. Honest.**

_There was a time when Logan and Victor were allies. A time when they, along with Wraith, Maverick, and Silver Fox, were the deadly team known as Team X. In this time, Team X went on missions so wrapped in shadow and death, they themselves were unsure of their sanity. After the team was decided too dangerous and too big of a risk, they were disbanded and their memories either wiped or blurred. They left, to pursue different paths in the world._

_What none of them knew as they broke apart was that they left behind a reminder._

_A daughter._

_This is her story._

**_Rose_**

I slip a tight leather jacket over my miniscule tube top. My silky black miniskirt swishes about mid-thigh and my three-inch high-heeled boots, that reach my knees, blend into the shadows that rule my room. The only color in my entire outfit is a golden locket that holds a picture of five different people. Engraved on the locket is an X, and it is one of my two links to my past. I look around my barren room, at the sign I had made myself that reads 'the Claw,' the small cot in the corner, the small chest of drawers, both either black or silver. My sheets are gray, drab and uninviting.

I know that tomorrow, like always, I'll be in trouble for one thing or another. Something about me, something about my shoulder length blond hair that is always mussed, something about my hazel eyes, something about _me_, seems to set off everyone around me. No one likes to be around the girl who does not seem to be the age she is—who seems to be thirty years old yet inhabiting the body of a fifteen year old. The adults hate the peril that radiates from me, my wild attitude and impulses that, more often than not, mean a fight or a mess. The kids in the orphanage hate the wisdom and skill I have, the smooth grace I have stored within my five foot ten body that so often shows up even the older children.

I sigh and open the window. The adults, in their endless war on my night outings, had made me take a room on the sixth floor, the highest in the building.

I jump.

Instincts and long-practiced habits kick in and I smoothly twist about to land feet first, cat-like, on the soft lawn in front of Worthington's Home for Children in Need. I listen; supersensitive hearing makes sure that the steady heartbeats do not race in anger or astonishment at my stunning performance. When I am satisfied that no one noticed or saw, I stand, leather jacket rubbing against my bare skin, and disappear into the darkness.

**_Dr. Goodman_**

I look at the report, red bolded letters spelling out: _Needs immediate attention. Please give directly to Dr. David Goodman._ Sometimes, I dislike the job of being the curator of this home, but grudgingly I pick up the report so clearly intended for me and open it before placing it in the two foot high stack of papers and reports. Again, Rose's name appears in at least once in every single report. Something about that girl is treacherous; her whole behavior suggests that if she wants something, she'd either get it or knock you down.

I sigh. The poor girl has a long record of being bounced from one orphanage or foster home to another. If not for the fact that she's fifteen, she'd probably be in jail now; her fate's still trying to be decided between me and the police. Her brawls and unauthorized forays in to private property, as well as her habit of hanging out in nightclubs, have seen to that.

Just two days ago she was brought back to the orphanage by police. There was not much disciplinary action that could be taken that wasn't already taking place. I feel a little guilty pleasure for already sending a letter to my employer's asking if he would kindly look into the matter of deporting the girl to another, stricter, orphanage—or juvenile hall.

I sigh again. It's a shame. Probably the poor girl just needs someone to really care. But with all the children, it is virtually impossible to give her much needed attention.

**_Rose_**

I enter the nightclub, The Wildcat, and am welcomed by a throbbing beat and flashing lights. I smile as I approach the dance floor.

A man turns around and nearly knocks into me, barely managing to keep his balance. I don't move, letting him regain his feet on his own.

His auburn hair, silk strands trailing into his face, settles back around his head. Red irises in black pits glimmer at me as a charming smile greets me. "Ah, _chère_, I am sorry."

I smile coolly, tossing my blond hair back. "You should be."

He raises an eyebrow, and now looks over me. I ignore him and start to walk away.

"Would y' like a drink?" his voice follows me.

I turn to eye him critically. He wears a long brown coat, but his easy grace and sure movements belie his meek appearance. "Why not?"

He takes my arm and leads me to the counter. I easily sit on the tall stools and glance around. Fred is off this week, and a new person called Joe is there.

"A special, please," I say commandingly.

"Make dat two, _homme_," my benefactor adds.

When Joe brings our drinks, I casually lift the glass and pretend to take a sip, allowing the liquid to slide back into the cup. I had tried to drink long ago and quickly learned how much alcohol impaired my ability to defend myself in a fight.

"So," the man says, "What's y'r name?"

I look at him over the rim of my cup. "Claw. What's yours?"

He smiles and places the cup on the bar. "Remy."

My eye is caught by a flash of color by the door. "Excuse me. Thanks for the drink," I say as I slide down from the chair and place my cup on the counter.

"Can I count 'n seein' y' tomorrow night,_ chère_?" he asks.

I smile, sharp canines glittering in the pulsing lights. "You can, but that doesn't mean you will."

**_Remy_**

I watch the young girl walk off. She is one good-looking girl, I'll give her that, but she's underage. How did she get in? The Wildcat is known for its strict enforcement of the proper age level.

I shake out my long coat and idly ignore my drink to watch her walk over to a girl with pink hair, neon green spaghetti strap shirt, and flashy purple skintight pants, sequins sprinkled freely over the silky material. The two talk together and are soon joined by a third person, a young boy. His black hair is in a crew cut, blue eyes glittering in his handsome face. A thick leather coat covers his white shirt, and loose khaki pants pool around his ankles.

They walk towards the back of the club, and I unobtrusively follow. They take the back stairs to the upstairs apartment, and I frown. Upstairs is not the best place for children as young as them; not one can be older than fifteen.

They knock on a door, which opens and shuts behind them. I carefully commit the scene to memory before taking my leave of the club, hoping I will see her later.

**_Rose_**

I walk down the streets and alleys of Salem. It isn't a large place, not like the bustle of Manhattan or Boston or NYC. But I don't really mind; in an out of the way place like this, the rather large police record of 'Claw' is diminished. These small-time cops don't fully get the clear picture of me, which is good. If I can stay in small towns like this until Scar erases my records, earning small money from staging small heists and robberies, I'll be content.

My ear cocks. Someone is yelling in the distance. I debate between going to check it out and going back to my room.

I change my direction and scale a wall, fluidly and gracefully.

Once on top of the building, I shed my leather jacket and place the packet of money Tessa, Staik, and I have earned this night down my tube top, and leap over the rooftops, a ghostly specter of darkness and purpose. Darkly tanned skin flashes momentarily in the light from a street lamp as I spring onto it and then leap off, across the street. I land with a light tap before loping across the rooftops.

I come to a stop at the edge of private property. I haven't entered it mainly because of the disturbing scents and aura, but it always teases me, taunts me. A scream sounds from my left and I reluctantly leave the boundary to clamber into a small alleyway.

It is just a small case of an attractive woman in the wrong place. I leap down, grab the man's shirt collar, and spring, carrying the man onto the roof. He's drunk, and his red rimmed eyes stare blearily upwards at me. I ignore him and search his pockets for identification.

He reaches out to me, muttering something under his breath, and I casually break his wrist while slipping his wallet out of his back pocket. As he howls in pain, I inspect his wallet's contents.

Looking down at him, I size him up. Big and beefy as he is, a blow to the neck might not knock him out. Instead, I slam my elbow into his temple. He gives a slight moan before his eyes roll up into his head and he sags in my hold.

I hoist him onto my back and easily dart across the roofs until I come to his address. After flinging him into the trash can at the end of his driveway, I then scamper off in the growing sunlight, quickly retrieving my cloak.

Reaching the orphanage, I scramble up the oak tree that reaches the second story. Standing on the highest branch, I jump.

I land on my windowsill with the grace of a cat and slide into the shadow filled room.

"Hey Cloak," I say as I step into my closet.

A shape detaches itself from my wall and shadows to sit on my bed. "I can never surprise you," the male voice says ruefully.

I chuckle. "If you could, you wouldn't bother visiting me," I answer as I slide off my clothes and slip on a light cotton T-shirt, torn off at the bottom to expose my stomach, and loose slacks that flare out around my bare feet. Pulling back my tangled hair in the semblance of a ponytail, I exit the tiny closet to sit beside my guest.

He wears a hooded cloak, from which he earns his name. It is said no one had ever seen his face but a few, and those few are long dead. A mutant like myself, he has been a part of the Morlocks before their massacre. He can travel through the shadows, much akin to a teleporter, yet he can not move living creatures through with him.

"Scar's almost done, and then you can come join us in Brooklyn," Cloak says.

I smile. "Scar is prompt, isn't he?" I say to myself as I stretch languidly.

"Have I ever told you how amazing you are?" Cloak says, and I can hear the love and lust in his tone.

I grin, teeth glinting. "Yes, but that doesn't matter. Unless you've been practicing?"

He sighs and I see the hood shake. I relax once more. Long before, when I had first joined the motley crew of mutants and Morlocks that banded together to try and take care of orphaned mutants, I had gotten a lot of . . . _attention_, because of my beauty. To take care of the problem, I told them that the only people I would consider taking an interest in are those who could best me in hand-to-hand combat.

So far, no one has earned the right to woo me.

"When's Scar exactly gonna be done?" I ask as I begin to do warm-up exercises.

Cloak shrugs. "He said he's making progress, but that doesn't mean he told us when he's going to be done. He's got quite a few states left." He cocks his head sideways. "You know, if _you_ didn't get into so much trouble, _this_ wouldn't be so much trouble."

"Are you going to stop me?" I ask as I begin one-handed push-ups.

He sighs. "You could be more low-key," he grumbles.

I back flip into a standing position, my hazel eyes alight with a strange fire, my body radiating a daredevil aura. "Where's the fun in that?" I ask him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: The Cloak in this story is an original character - sorry for any confusion that resulted from that. Anyway, you all know the normal disclaimers (I do not own Remy or Logan or Angel or any of the X-Men sniff and I'm not getting any money out of this) and happy reading!_

**_Remy_**

I sit at the bar, sipping at my drink. My eyes scan the crowd for a glimpse of the girl once more. My thoughts run back to the past morning, where Warren had read aloud a letter to the X-Men:

_'Listen to this, guys, "If you would kindly look into the matter of sending the girl known only as Rose to another, better orphanage where stronger actions can be taken against her volatile behavior and improper manner, I would be thankful." And you know what, guys, he sends me this long list of offenses. This girl's been accused of harassment, robbery, drug dealing, assault, and obstruction of justice.'_

_Hank had looked up from his book. 'Shouldn't a girl such as that be in juvenile hall?' he had asked._

_Warren had shaken his head. 'No, because they can't pin anything definitely on her. The charges never stuck, or something. The fact that she has no known relatives anywhere helped in that area. But you know, she must be hanging by the skin of her teeth to stay out of juvenile hall after all this.'_

_'You should speak with her, see how she acts, stuff like that. Get an impression of her person,' Jubilee had said matter-of-factly. 'She might not be that bad.'_

_I had gone up and glanced at the letter. The picture of the girl who I had met the night before stared up at me._

"Waiting for me?"

I turn to look beside me. The same girl from the picture and from the night before sits before me, a white, tight, sleeveless cotton shirt over her breasts yet exposing her skin from rib cage to navel. Low, tight jeans hug slim thighs to flop around black, steel-toed boots. A black leather jacket with silver embroidery is draped over her arm.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asks as she signals the bartender.

"_Chère_, why're y' 'ere?" I ask.

She leans back, crossing her legs and stretching seductively. "I thought you wanted me to be here tonight."

I turn my face from her. "Claw, right?"

She nods slowly. "Why are _you_ here?"

I turn to look her over. "Claw, y' underage, right?"

Her smile is strange and discomforting. "Yes, in fact, I'm fifteen. What about it?"

I stand. "I know lot more 'bout you dan dat,_ chère_. I know y' 'n orphan, an' 'ave a long police record. Y' 'n inch 'way from droppin' int' juvie hall."

Her eyes have a strange cast to them; slightly insane, it seems. "Yes. What are you going to do about it?"

I shrug. "Guess I c'n do not'in', hmm,_ chère_?" I say. "But I need t' go now, an' while I'd like t' get t' know y' a little betteh, this's important."

I feel my com signal beeping, and that means that Cyclops needs me for something, probably unimportant. But I should go, simply because I am already in trouble with the team and don't need any more.

I leave the club and jump into the small 4x4 Jeep I had brought; I had repainted my bike this afternoon and it wasn't dry yet. Sighing, I pull out the vibrating com signal and press a button.

"Gambit?"

"Yeah, 'm 'ere, Cyclops."

"An assignment: rouge mutants in Brooklyn. The Professor wants us to offer recruitment."

"What d' y' need m' f'r?" I ask.

"We have a strong feeling they don't exactly, um, live on the correct side of the law."

"Take a t'ief t' talk t' a t'ief?"

"Well, yeah."

I feel the car rock as a slight weight drops onto it; when I look around, I find nothing. Grumbling under my breath, I start the car and drive off.

**_Rose_**

I slide out my tiny claws; claws that are barely longer than a digit on my fingers, but that can slice through diamonds like a knife can through butter, and dig them into the roof of Remy's car. I have flattened my body against the cold metal, my leather jacket covering the skin that my white shirt exposes. My eyes watch my surroundings avidly; if it comes to it, I want to know what path to take to escape any pursuers.

I feel a brief hesitation when I see we have entered the private property that, earlier, I had considered entering, but the wilder side of my nature takes control. I stay on.

We drive down a long driveway until we come to a huge, glorious mansion. Warm lights blink in windows, and forms move in the house.

I leap off, into the bushes, eyes alert for security devices. Only because I am watching do I manage to stay off pressure sensors and dodge hidden security cameras. I carefully maneuver my way through brush and woods.

I freeze suddenly, senses on alert. Something is moving through the bushes, something big.

I silently spring into a tree, barely moving a leaf, and survey the ground.

**_Logan_**

"Logan, the motion detectors have sensed something abnormally big out by the gardens. Could you check it out?"

I sigh and stand, placing down the remote and stretching. "Sure thing, Cyke."

Cyclops ignores me and exits the room. I walk out the front door and meet Remy coming in. "Hey, Cajun."

Remy nods and moves past me. We maintain a tentative relationship that is based mainly on distance. I stride out into the yard and take a long sniff.

Slowly filtering the scents through my nose, placing the scents that are familiar to one side, I suddenly come upon a strange scent. Inhaling deeply, I have a strange feeling that I know those scents from somewhere.

Carefully, I pick apart the smell. There was a definitive trace of Sabertooth—here I lift my lip—but it is intermixed with a trace of North's scent as well. There are also bits of Kestrel's scent, and—is that _my_ scent?—and also what seems to be some of Silver Fox's scent.

Angel comes out of the door behind me. "What is it?" he asks.

"I have no idea," I growl. "It's got part o' my scent, part o' Maverick's scent, part o' Kestrel's scent, part o' Sabertooth's scent, and it seems ta have part o' Silver Fox's scent."

"Why don't I help you check it out?" Angel asks, starting to move towards the woods.

I watch Warren enter the forest and grumble under my breath, but slowly enter after him. I move with caution though; if something smells of Victor, it's most likely crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Warren**_

I move through the woods, peering about for any intruder, wings poised to take me into the air. Night wind whispers around me, rustles leaves, and I breathe in the fresh air, relaxing. I can't see anything.

Suddenly, something moves at the corner of my vision. Training and reaction takes control; I leap, spreading my wings, to land on whatever it is.

I look down on what I had captured and catch my breath. A stunningly beautiful girl lays spread beneath me, my legs pinning hers, my hands holding her arms away from her and myself.

"Who are you?" I ask.

Dreamy hazel eyes looks at me through long lashes. Tousled blond hair, matted with leaves and sticks, frames slim cheekbones and smooth skin.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Never anger a gal with boots on'?" she says, feral grin shocking me into action. But I am moments late; she bucks, her forehead hitting into my own with a crack. I feel dazed, and she twists beneath me to buck once more. I go flying off of her to land a few feet away.

She whirls and slams her steel-toed boots square between my legs. Pain rocks me and I groan with my teeth clenched. Where is Logan?

The girl is suddenly pinned once more, now beneath Logan's heavy body. Wolverine's adamantium skeleton will hold her there, the weight of it crushing her and preventing any movement.

But she is pinned differently, her hands against his chest, her legs held together by Logan's knees. One of his hands is on either side of her head, and Logan looks her up and down before glancing over at me.

"Think we got ourselves a hooker?" Logan growls, voice harsh.

I valiantly try to stand.

Logan chuckles. "She got ya good, huh, bird-brain?" He turns to look at her, slowly getting up. "'Scuse us miss, but you're on private property."

The girl stays silent, letting Logan slowly free her. Still, Logan keeps a firm grip on her right arm: obviously taking no chances.

"Miss, you all right?" Logan asked.

"I'll call the cops on you for assault!" she yells, her voice loud and strong. I wince. "All I did was get lost, and you attacked me!"

I stare at her. Where have I seen her before?

"Well, we're awfully sorry, but, lady, ya shouldn't be out this late at night." Logan starts to lead her towards the drive.

"Waitaminute!" I say, standing. "You're Rose, the girl the director of the orphanage wrote to me about!"

Logan stops, unsure what to do, but swiftly the girl leaps up and over Logan's head, twisting his arm backwards and sending him crashing into the dirt. She speeds off, long and limber legs carrying her faster than any normal human.

Logan grunts and stands, his shoulder slightly lower than normal. "Way ta go, bird-brain. Now we gotta chase 'er."

I press my com signal as I rise into the sky. "Hank, we've got an intruder, heading to the lake. She might be a mutant, but she definitely can kick."

The com signal crackles and Hank's voice comes through: "On it and bringing out a team."

I flap my wings, speeding up, and scan the ground. A sudden movement brings me up short, and I peer closer at the ground.

Suddenly, out of an oak tree, a shape launches at me. I twist in surprise, but the girl manages to grab onto my feet. Swinging herself upwards, she smashes her boots into my face. My nose seems to shatter and burst into flames, and I howl as I drop; she twists to get on top of me, to let me hit the ground first.

An ice bridge abruptly materializes beneath us and cold hands grip my back.

"Seems like you got a passenger, Angel," Bobby says.

The girl leaps off of my chest to dive into the brush. "Bobby," I say, coughing.

"Hold on there buddy; your nose and jaw are pretty much mush," the young mutant says.

"Don't let her—" I start.

"Aw, I wouldn't have been that stupid. Logan and Hank are somewhere around here—"

A snarl comes from the bushes and there are sounds of a struggle.

"See?" Bobby says as he places me on the ground.

**_Rose_**

I fight with everything I can muster, but the first man is unnaturally heavy and the second, furry man is amazingly strong.

"Calm down miss, we don't want to hurt you," the furred man says, keeping his firm grip on my legs.

The first man, the one who I had encountered earlier with the bird-man, grips my arms firmly. "Miss, as I said before, you're a trespasser here."

I twist and writhe, and the men have to compensate for my constantly shifting weight. My mind is working furiously, working out solutions and quickly discarding them, even as my blood races with anger and excitement.

"Hey, she busted Warren's face up good," the ice-boy says, appearing. "Need help? I can freeze her in one place—"

"We don't want to do that—" the furred man says.

I come to a decision and allowed my eyes to flutter close and fall limp in my captor's grasp.

"What happened?" the ice-boy's voice asks.

"It appears she has fainted," the furred man says, his voice puzzled.

The man holding my arms snorts. "I don't think _any_thing can make this gal faint."

"Should we take her inside and see if something's wrong with her, Logan?" the furred man asks.

The man at my head replies, "I dunno. She seems pretty fine. Looks it and smells it, too."

"Hank, what should we do about Warren? His nose is really crushed." That's the ice-boy.

"Bobby, call on Jean and see if she can take Warren in. You help me and Logan to carry this girl into the mansion." I lock their names into my mind, remember who is who.

Logan says, "Warren called this girl Rose and said somethin' about an orphanage."

"Well, Warren received a letter this morning considering a certain girl called Rose, asking if he would let her to go to another orphanage that could, what is the proper term? 'Take stronger disciplinary action', I believe." Hank, the man holding my feet, sets me on the ground.

Logan still holds on, and right now I'm thinking about bringing my feet up to kick him in the face.

"Guys?" a female's voice calls, from a little to the side and above me.

"Jean, can you take Warren in to the infirmary?"

"What happened to him?"

Bobby's voice answers, "Her."

Jean's voice comes over. "Who's she?"

Logan answers, "An orphan from Warren's orphanage. Seems she has no known family and's a troublemaker."

I feel something reaching into my mind and I quickly close off all doors to my mind, preventing any telepathic intrusion.

"I can't glimpse into her mind," Jean says.

"Look," Hank says, "we have to get Warren into the sick-bay. And we might as well take this girl as well; she doesn't seem to be responding."

I listen to Bobby and Jean go off, and wait, slightly tensing my muscles.

"Hey, Hank, I think ya better grab onto 'er feet," Logan begins from my head.

"Why?"

I bring my feet up in a swift scissor kick, making sure to connect with Hank's solar plexus and chin before twisting in Logan's grip, turning to face him, and fasten my teeth into his nose.

Logan cries out in surprise and his grip loosens reflexively; I bring my feet up and slam them into his chest, wrenching my arms free to fall backwards onto the furred man. He is gasping for air, but still weakly tries to seize me. I give him a quick roundhouse to his temple before scampering off into the bushes, heading towards the water I can smell.

Shouts come from behind me, and I hear the two men get to their feet and start to follow me. I shed my jacket, reluctantly, it being the only link besides my locket to my past, but out of necessity; if I was going to go swimming, the leather would drag me down. I awkwardly shed my boots to run barefoot through the wood.

Something slams into my side, rolling me off my feet. I instinctively lash out at whatever it is, and I'm rewarded with a crunch as my elbow connects with a jaw. I kick my foot, heel first, into the stomach of my attacker, and rewarded with a whoosh of expelled breath. I shake off my attacker and run, gazelle-like, to dive into the frigid waters of the lake.

Submerged, I swim as far and as hard as I can away from the bank, just trying to put distance between me and my attackers. After three minutes, I surface as quietly as I can, softly taking in much needed air.

"Where is she?"

"In the lake!"

"Jean, can you feel her?"

"Not yet!"

"Hey guys, I found a jacket!"

"Is Storm back yet?"

"She's coming!"

I take a deep breath and dive once more, swimming for all I'm worth. Ignoring the cold water and water weeds, I stay on the bottom as long as I can before resurfacing. As I prepare to recede downwards once more, I shudder; water repulses me.

I reemerge, freezing. It being autumn, almost winter, the water is cold and clammy. I strain my ears, but I can't hear anything. I float for a few minutes, patiently making sure no noise is heard on the closest bank. Tiredly, I swim to the bank.

The wind whips about me, cutting through my flimsy clothing to freeze my skin. I am exhausted from my escape swim, but I force myself to go through a routine to get my blood circulating once more.

I stop. Something is wrong.

I dive sideways just as a thud is heard and a dark shape lands where I was a few moments ago. The man turns to look at me, and I recognize Logan.

I hiss a curse and leap away from his second lunge. He bounds after me and I take off, outdistancing him. It isn't that hard; I'm a surprisingly good runner. Granted, I never ran _away_ from a fight, but right now I'm tired, and in no condition to take on this obviously superior and skilled man.

I skid to a halt and drop, letting him fly over me. My mouth sets in a grim line, yet it quirks with a type of madness and anticipation. I have never run away from a fight before, not against the police, not against sentinels, not against government forces, not against Alpha Flight, and _definitely_ never from one opponent.

I leap onto him, sliding out my right-hand claws and digging them deep into his body, between his ribs, as far as they would go. My left hand wraps around his throat, and my bare foot catches him straight between the legs.

He grunts and falls to his knees. I get off of him, breathing hard, my eyes alight with a mad fire. "Get up," I breathe, nose flaring.

"Don't know what we did, lady, but we don't want ta hurt ya," he coughs, staggering to his feet, his eyes burning.

I snarl as I ram myself into his chest, knocking him over and into the dirt. Lips pulled back, unnaturally sharp teeth glittering in the silver rays of the moon, I eye him.

"All I wanted was to leave," I say. He begins to sit up, and I kick him in the jaw, hard, with the ball of my foot. His jaw feels like metal; perhaps it is. He_ is_ a mutant.

"Yeah, well, you were trespassing." He stands, and I see his wounds are healing.

I smile, feral, dangerous, teeth showing. "Maybe I wanted to be," I say.

He jumps at me, and I heard a _snikt_. Something sharp cuts through my thigh, lightly, enough to sting in the cold air.

"Lady, we're both cold, we're tired, and we both don't want to stay here—" his voice stops as he watches my wound close rapidly, healing within seconds of getting the wound.

"But we both want a fight," I practically purr, and dart under his uppercut to slam both my fists into his gut. He huffs out air.

His face turns hard, and immediately, I feel a foot connect with my stomach. Instantly, I channel the kinetic energy away from the point of impact, spreading it throughout my body. So, instead of blacking out, I stumble backwards a bit.

He looks at me, his surprise hidden from facial expression, but clear in his scent and body language.

"Don't judge a book by its cover," I hiss, refusing to show how much that stunt cost me. Using any of my mutant powers, whether it be channeling kinetic energy, teleporting, growing huge and strong like a bear, or sliding blades out from my arms, takes a drastic toll on my reserves of strength. I mainly stick with my needle-like teeth, healing, sharper-than-diamond finger/claws, and natural agility.

He recovers himself quickly, and slides metal claws out from his knuckles.

I'm momentarily surprised—who wouldn't be?—but instincts that have been with me for as long as I remember kick in and I drop low from a swing of his fist to scissor kick upwards, between his legs. He drops to one knee, protecting, and swipes at me. But I somersault backwards and jump at him.

He brings his fist up to meet me, claws sliding back into his skin, but instead of meeting the end of his fist—which I would have, except for my marvelous ability of self-preservation—I grab his wrist and flip myself nimbly so that I'm crouching _on_ his arm. He blinks, but before he has time to act, I whip myself upwards again and slam both my feet right into his face.

I land, winded, and pant as I watch him fall. He will get up; there is no doubt in my mind about the strength and extent of his healing ability. But right now, I can walk away from the fight satisfied that, while I have not bested him, I have given him perhaps the first beating in a long while.

I turn on my heel and run swiftly through the forest.

I stop a couple of minutes later, senses on the alert. Almost instantly, I see a young looking teen walk past. I covertly watch him, making sure he keeps on going in one direction. I'm so intent on him, I never notice the furred man—Hank.

I feel a huge weight land onto me, and only instincts twist me swiftly into a position where that much weight would do my body as least harm as possible. Still, I feel all my muscles strain as I let out part of a suppressed howl. The teen turns around, and begins to come over.

I buck, hard and wild, and the blue/black man careens off my back and into the trunk of a tree. I burst out of the undergrowth, startling the boy, and run for all I am worth. While I could probably take all of them on, one-on-one, I am in no condition to fight at all, and they work as a team. They also have a better knowledge of fighting and controlling their powers than I do, and that puts me at a distinct disadvantage.

My flight leads me into a new part of the forest; a well tended garden. I ignore the change, though it does confuse me some, and bolt straight through, careful not to destroy anything. When I burst back into the woods, something slams into my side. Since both my attacker and I were moving at such an intense rate, the damage is great: I feel several ribs crack and my forearm bends in two. I hiss, teeth clenched tight, and turn to look at my attacker, who seems to be suffering from no more than a headache.

I bite my lip and push my arm back into place. The pain that ensues almost makes me pass out then, but my attacker's voice brings me back to reality.

"Ma'am, I—"

I flip forwards and downwards, to hit my foot into his side. He gasps with pain, and I deliver another kick to his jaw. Spitting on his head, I continue to run, ignoring my bare and bleeding feet.

Logan suddenly appears from nowhere behind me, and I double my efforts and run harder than I had ever run in my entire life.

I sense a trap almost the moment I see the furred man, Hank, pop out of the trees, and I know something is wrong. So, instead of obeying my first impulse to dart sideways and double away, I leap forward, one last spring that would have carried me over at least twenty feet—except someone, a giant metal man, is waiting for me right there.

But I don't have time to really see him—though who could miss him, a giant tin-man?—because then my face collides with his chest.

I taste cold metal and snarl before falling into a black void.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Logan**_

I catch up to Hank, nostrils flaring and mouth open as I try to suck air into my tortured lungs. "She . . . she down an' out?" I pant.

Peter nods, gently holding the small, slim body of the girl who has caused so much trouble this night. "I did not mean to hurt her, but she ran into me, Logan," Peter says, worry in his voice.

Hank sighs. "It was an accident."

I chuckle harshly. My nose still hurts from where the girl had slammed her weight into my face, and for all I care, she can be waste right now. But I had seen her healing power, and know that her sprained spine will heal soon. "Let's just get 'er inta the house. She can heal, an' I'd rather have 'er in an enclosed place than here where she can lead us on a chase again."

Hank nods and we take the girl back into the house. I watch them, watch the girl especially.

She's a slight, fragile looking thing, face finally at peace as her tousled and dirty blond hair frames her face. When she isn't all fired up and ready to go, she looks almost angelic, high cheekbones and a small nose, long lashes. She's certainly well-endowed, in all the right places, and not one ounce on her is fat. Her skin is smooth and pale, and her slender hands slightly grip Colossus's huge arms. Her feet are slowly healing; it's a wonder she could have run so far and so fast without at least limping a little.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Bobby asks, gazing at her.

I snort. "She'd chew you up and swallow you whole for an appetizer, Bobby," I tell the young X-Man.

Bobby sighs. "I can still dream, right?"

I chuckle. "As long as you know it's only a dream," I answer.

Bobby hands me a jacket. "I found these in the woods. Sam has her boots."

I take the jacket and tell Bobby, "Tell Sam to send 'em into the infirmary. I'm going ta be watchin' over this one special."

Bobby nods and, after a long look at the unconscious girl, walks off. I smile as I watch the young man walk off before following Peter and Hank into the sick-bay. Warren already lays there, bandaged and half-awake. He tries to sit up as he watches them come in and place her down on a bed.

"What happened?" he asks, his voice weak and the worry in his eyes unmistakable.

I smile. "She ran into overgrown tin-man here. Full tilt, full speed. She'll be here awhile. Why? Don't worry; you can off her inta juvie hall anytime in the next ten hours."

Warren shakes his head. "I think she should stay here with us."

I raise an eyebrow.

Warren sinks down into his bed. "She's never known a family . . ."

I turn from the sleeping man, grumbling about Warren's big heart.

The girl is stretched out, a small wire taped onto her skin, and a small monitor beeping by her side. Something gold flashes at her neck, and I cover her sopping wet body with a blanket—you could see completely through the white shirt since it was wet—before reaching for it.

I pick up the gold and realize it is a locket. I thumb it open and catch my breath; there sits pictures of me and my former teammates from Team X. A small something flashes in the light as I go to close it, and I carefully pull out the pictures of Silver Fox and David North to get a better glimpse at it.

It is a computer chip, carefully held in place by tight clamps that prevent it from falling. I gaze at it in puzzlement before deftly unclasping the locket chain. The girl's hands reflexively reach up to her neck, but I catch them and gently push them back down to her sides. She relaxes and slips back into sleep.

Professor X comes up behind me. "Find something interesting about our guest?" he asks.

I nod absently. "Cyke back yet?" I ask.

"In the study."

I walk off to let Chuck do his little psychic probe on their 'guest'. Personally, I'd rather have a rattlesnake in the sick-bay instead of her.

In the study, I find Cyclops and Gambit. Ignoring the Cajun, I approach Summers.

"Can ya figure out what this computer chip is? I found it on our unwelcome 'guest'."

I notice Gambit's attention perks then. Cyclops nods and says, "I'll get right on it, Logan, since you think it's important."

I grunt and watch Cyclops leave before turning to Remy. "Now, Cajun, what's got you so fired up?"

"Who's 'r 'unwelcome guest'?" Remy asks.

"A girl called Rose, who's decided that it might've been fun ta trespass. Ya know 'er?"

Gambit cocks his head sideways. "Might. She be a young fille, tall, rude, an' wearin' a leat'er jacket wit' silver stitchin'?"

I nod.

Gambit sighs. "Yeah, I seen 'er in de nightclubs f'r a while. I t'ink she be movin' drugs, 'r somethin', but I'm not sure."

I growl under my breath. "Yeah, well, I want her out as soon as possible. She's . . . I don't like the feel of her."

"Oh? An' why might dat be?"

I turn my face from Remy. "She smells like . . . like me. And Sabertooth. And a few other people I've known."

Silence reins for a while, until I feel my com signal vibrating. Sighing, I push the button.

"Logan?"

I focus on Cyclops's voice. "Ya found somethin'?"

"Yeah, and I think you should see this."

"Where are you?" I ask as I begin to walk out of the study.

"The War Room."

I enter the War Room just a little later. Cyclops sits in front of an advanced computer, gazing at an icon that read: Please Wait.

"Why you in here, Summers?"

Scott sighs and stands to walk over to another computer. "I placed the chip, once I got it out of its niche, in the computer and this message appeared."

He presses a button and suddenly, a face appears on the screen.

"Claw, I'm so glad you found this message. Since I don't have much time, I'll try to be quick. I took you from your family because they were dangerous, going to raise you as a machine, loyal to them. They're after me now, which is why I sent you off to my good friend, Dr. Jackson, and gave you the name Rose. Remember these names, since all these people are searching: Logan, Victor Creed, David North, Silver Fox, and John Wraith. I put pictures of them in your locket and sewed onto your shirt their initials. Beware of them!"

The man suddenly turns away, horror registering briefly, before flipping back.

"They're here now. Here's an address, and I hope Dr. Jackson can get this from my safe and put in your locket. Good-bye, Claw."

The screen blanks, but red letters spring up on the screen which spells out an address located in Chicago, Ohio.

I wrinkle my brow.

"I'm running a check on the face and voice patterns now, but anything you remember might help."

I shrug. "I've never seen or heard that guy before."

Scott looks at me. "Who were those other people?"

"Old acquaintances." I turn and walk back to the sick-bay.

What would someone gain by saying that me and my old teammates are enemies? Who is this girl, and how will she react when she recognizes me?

I enter the sick-bay and instantly know something's wrong. Then I feel something wrap around my throat, and on either side people grab my arms. A knife pushes against my stomach, and a strong set of hands wrap around my mouth.

My eyes narrow, but I hold my peace, trying to see what is going on.

"Keep quiet and you won't get hurt." The voice is female and harsh; not Rose's, though.

"Scar, is she awake yet?"

I make out five shapes around Warren, watching him yet not bothering him, for he's still asleep. Charles sits limp in his chair, eyes closed; no shapes are around him. I wonder what they have done to him. Around Rose's bed two shapes hover, gingerly shaking her.

I snarl, and the knife pokes deeper.

"Hush, we just want Claw," a boy's voice says. "Though why we're here, risking _our_ necks for a another mess-up _she_ made—"

"Shut up, Cougar!" another boy hisses.

The door opens slowly. All noise stops, and I wonder why whoever just entered the room doesn't see me; I'm in the middle of the room!

There is a muffled thud, and a hissed warning like the one I was given. Whoever it is, they're downwind from me, so I can't get a scent. Clenching my arm, I pop my claws. There is a muffled yelp; I have to give it to these kids, they are organized and well-trained. But I am better.

A boy leaps onto me, planting a knife right at my jugular vein. "Stop it now," he snarls, eyes pure white.

There is a sudden thump from behind us, and a sharp cry, cut off in the middle. A sudden explosion blows me off my feet.

I pick myself off the floor, trying to stop the stars from dancing in front of my eyes. I spin around to see Remy. I sigh. "O' course."

Three shapes jump forward, and I catch a brief glance of a face contorted in anger and pain before I am clocked on the back of my head.

I turn to face whatever is in front of me, and immediately I am knifed from behind. Something shoots into my leg, and a girl with membranes stretched from forearms to legs lands on my head. Suddenly, I'm fighting off around ten separate people when a commanding voice calls out, "Stop!"


	5. Chapter 5

**_Logan_**

The kids around me stop, frozen, and slowly back away from me. I pant, hard, and look around for Gambit. He's in the corner of the room, leaning on his pole.

"You . . . all right, Cajun?" I pant.

Remy lifts his head and smiles tiredly.

"Claw! You're all right?"

I turn to see a cloaked figure peel away from the shadows and join the circle of kids around Rose. God, she looks tired. Tired and hurt.

"Of course I'm all right. Now, what happened?" she asks, turning to look at Remy.

"I'm not sure. Seems dat when Colossus was downwind o' ya, ya didn' notice 'im and ran inta him when he was in metal form," Remy answers.

Rose's face grows thoughtful. Finally, she turns to her side. "Tessa?"

A pink-haired girl appears instantly at her arm. She wears a bright red, sparkling vest, nothing under it, and so low cut you can see the tops of her breasts. It is fastened by two absurdly colorful strings, and her spandex pants are neon blue, green, and pink. Glitter coats her skin, and she has huge golden loop earrings that almost reach her shoulders.

"Has tonight's shipment gone through?"

"Yes, Claw."

Rose turns to Cloak. "How many did you manage to get to come after me?" she asks in disbelief.

"Everyone," says the same tall, haughty boy I had seen the others call Cougar.

She turns to him, eyes bright with anger. "What are _you_ doing here?!" she hisses.

Remy coughs in the corner, and she turns to look him over. Cocking her head sideways, she turns to Tessa. "Pick: A or B?"

Tessa blinks before shrugging. "B."

Rose turns to the shadows. "Lifegiver?"

A young boy, beautiful blond hair flopping into his dreamy blue eyes, comes to her side. "Yes?"

I recognize that look; Bobby had given Rose's unconscious form that look as well. These kids either follow her because they adore her or fear her. I'm betting to the former.

"I want you to go over there and heal Remy. Then over to this man, Warren. Then we leave." She pushes past Cougar and kneels down to reach my eye-level.

"Where's my locket?"

"Your locket's downstairs," I mutter, hoping to calm her down and placate her. "We took a look at that chip in it."

Her eyes suddenly light up. "You're Logan from that message, aren't you?" she asks.

I tense. "Yes."

She looks me up and down. For a moment she seems ready to leap on me, but then she stands. "It was a pleasure to fight against you."

"Someone's coming!" hisses the cloaked boy.

Cougar jumps into action, landing on top of me. "Shh," he whispers.

The rest of the children disappear into the shadows, and Rose stands to the side of the door.

Bobby walks in with Sam. "Logan? We got her boots—"

Sam jumps forward, becoming invulnerable as he propels himself into the room. "Professeh!" he yells.

Rose leaps onto Bobby, holding him tight from behind. "Don't move," she breathes into his ear.

He turns rigid, blinking; I guess he is bewitched by the feel of Rose's ample breasts pressed against his back, and inwardly curse the foolishness of youth. Trying to move, I am rewarded by three more people piling on top of me, gripping my mouth close.

A beautiful girl is suddenly between Chuck and Sam, arms around his neck, breasts against his chest. "Shh," she whispers, gazing into his eyes, beautiful green orbs looking up at him through long lashes and warm brown hair. Her shirt is low cut and her skirt rides on her upper thigh.

I briefly see Remy struggling before disappearing once more. Bobby seems to notice that; he begins to struggle, but Sam stays stock-still.

Rose grips him tighter, one arm about his waist, the other threaded between his right arm and his side to grip his chest. "I said," she hisses, "don't move." She presses a pressure point on his neck with her chin, and he falls limp.

I fight now, as hard as I can, but there are too many children and all of them seem to work efficiently as a team.

"Mesmerize, leave the poor boy be and keep a watch," Rose says as she lays Bobby carefully on a bed. "Hurry up, Lifegiver."

He leaves Remy's side, who has just popped back into existence—out cold—and walks over to Warren. Cougar presses a knife by my eye.

"Stop it," he snarls.

"You better've not hurt Bobby, or so help me—" I spit, stopping as I feel my com signal vibrate.

"Don't worry; he's just sleeping like Warren over there. So far, we can get out of here without any interference except yours."

She cocks her head sideways. "Strongarm, can you stay here with Transport, and keep him quiet until five minutes have passed?"

A huge, green skinned boy steps forward. "I . . . think so," he says, eyeing me.

"Just try it, pretty boy," I dare, mentally urging Jean to get here fast. "I promise you won't last long."

The door suddenly bursts open, and all the kids drop away, into the shadows, dragging Remy, Sam, and myself. I fight as hard as I can, but someone holding onto my arm is leeching me of all my strength. My movements slow, and I watch through blazing eyes as Cyclops bursts into the room with Hank, Jean, Ororo, Peter, Kurt, and Jubilee.

"Logan?" Cyclops calls.

"Professor!" Jubilee yells as she runs forward.

A shape dives out of the shadows, slamming into Jubilee's side, and sliding into the space between the beds, faster than they had time to react.

"Jubilee!" Peter calls, turning metal. He slowly walks forward. "What's wrong with Bobby and the Professor?"

"More importantly," Hank asks, "where's our guest?"

Jean turns around to look in my direction. I begin to struggle once more, renewing my efforts, and there is a muffled curse.

"Logan?" Kurt asks in disbelief before jumping backwards. "He disappeared!"

"Something's not right. Kurt, run and gather everyone who's in the house. Try to find Psylocke," Hank says.

Kurt leaps out the door. Cyclops slowly begins to talk.

"Rose, we don't want to hurt you or hold you against your will. We took your locket and saw the chip; it's downstairs. We found a picture match with the man in the recording. We can also tell you who those people are, that he talked about."

A silence greets his words for a time before Rose drops down behind them, silently. I strain as hard as I could, but whoever is draining my strength is doing a good job; I can barely move.

"Let's close this door, shall we?" she asks in a purring voice. They all jump and turn to see her close the door. She smiles lazily at them. "Wouldn't want any guests."

Cyclops recovers first. "Where's Logan?"

Peter speaks up from Chuck's side. "What did you do to the Professor?"

She puts up her hands. "Now, now, one at a time. Yes, I would like my locket back. Yes, I would like my jacket and boots back. Logan is right there, but you can't see him. Baldy is just temporarily 'blinded.' Any more?"

Jean looks at Bobby.

"He's sleeping." Rose tosses her hair and eyes the shadow behind her.

"Where's Gambit?" Peter asks.

She flips her head to one side, expression puzzled. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

Hank leaps at her, but suddenly Cougar appears to soar up to meet him. The two grapple a moment before Hank jumps backwards. Cougar stands by Rose's side for a moment before fading into the shadows.

She smiles toothily at the group. "I have protectors," she tells them sweetly.

Hank holds his arm, and I can smell the scent of blood in the air. I struggle once more.

"How come Logan disappeared?" Jean asks, voice serene.

She looks over at me. "He didn't _disappear_; my telepaths are blocking your senses from registering him. Of course, when he struggled, he knocked the concentration of the key telepath, which is why you got a glimpse of him."

Peter stands, anger radiating off of him. "Where is Gambit?" he demands once more.

She glares at him. "I don't know who you're talking about!" she snarls.

"Maybe a different name? Where's Remy LeBeau?" Cyclops asks.

Her eyes brighten. "Remy's in the corner."

Her face abruptly grows unfocused, and Tessa appears by her elbow. "Well!" Rose says smartly. "Hand over my locket and clothes and we'll leave."

"Where's Jubilee?" Hank asks.

Someone knocks on the door. "Scott?" comes Psylocke's muffled voice.

Cyclops smiles smugly. "She'll get worried if the door doesn't open and I don't answer."

Rose seems on the edge of something, debating with herself. Finally, she turns to Tessa and whispers something. Tessa nods and disappears into the shadows.

"Now, you can send her away nicely, or things can get rough," she says, and I see her muscles tense.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Logan_**

"Young lady, I don't think you should be making any threats," Hank tells her.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Hank, Jean, Storm, and Peter are suddenly beset on all sides, and Tessa suddenly appears behind Cyclops. A delicate hand touches his bare neck, and suddenly he sags, face blank.

Jean is dragged off first, struggling, and Hank is next. Peter is still giving trouble, and the knocks become more persistent. "Scott Summers, open this door!"

Peter finally falls, and Cyclops slowly walks, Tessa hidden behind him, to the door and opens it, saying, "Psylocke, Rose has escaped and taken Jubilee, Bobby, and Sam as hostages. I sent everyone after them, and I'm trying to revive Professor Xavier. He seems to be knocked out."

Psylocke nods and leaves. Cyclops closes the door robotically, Tessa behind him and touching his skin every step of the way. He walks over to a chair and Tessa awkwardly holds onto his hand as he sits down. Three children come up and begin to tie him down.

"You can let go, Tessa," Rose said as she slid out of the shadows.

Tessa drops his hand like a hot brick and walks away. Cyclops stays frozen momentarily before he yells, "What did you do to me?!"

Tessa smiles, but there is a bitter quality in it. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Cyclops utters a few words I didn't think he'd ever say.

Rose walks over to the corner and hefts Remy over her shoulder. He hangs limply, and I can tell he's still out. She carefully places him on a bed and glances at a shadow. "The girl can lie over there. Knock out the others and lie them down also, gently. Lifegiver, make sure they're healed. I don't want for them to have a reason to come after us, not even a scratch."

A cat-looking young man rises from under a bed with Jubilee and lays her down carefully. A short, stocky young man drags Hank out of a corner and plops him on the bed. Soon, Sam and Jean lay in beds as well. Cyclops fumes in the chair until they place a small necklace around his neck. Almost immediately, he falls into a comatose state, mimicking Charles.

Peter is dragged out with more fuss, for he still isn't fully down and out. Three separate kids, two boys and a girl, grapple with him. The girl, a long, monkey-like tail emerging from her pants, tries to place a necklace on him as well. He fights, but not with the usual strength and vigor. I don't blame him. These are kids, for god's sake, and the kids themselves aren't trying to hurt us, not really. Soon, a lucky blow stuns him momentarily, and the necklace slips over his head. Instantly, he drops asleep.

"Great, he's in his metal state," the girl growls. "Strongarm, can you—?"

The green skinned boy walks up and, straining, lifts Peter up and gets him to a bed. After placing him down, he slumps with exhaustion.

Storm is being wrestled with as well, and I begin to fight with all my strength as Tessa approaches me. "Don't you dare," I growl through clenched teeth. "Don't you _dare_ touch me."

Tessa rolls her eyes and reaches out. Rose stops her, catching her shirt. I notice she avoids Tessa's exposed skin as well.

"Wait on this one. Mire, you stay, but the rest of you, leave us for the moment."

I watch the kids slowly melt away from me. My strength seems to flood back to me. A young girl, no older than four with unnaturally large hands, sits beside me.

"Now," she asks, "where's my jacket?"

I snarl. "Why would I tell you?"

Her eyes snap. "Because, if you don't, I'll let Tessa touch you and we'll use you as we will," she hisses.

I feel my anger flare up. "Listen missy, I don't like you and I don't like who you smell like, and I don't think you should be threatening me," I growl.

"Hey!"

She whirls around to see Psylocke holding Cougar in a headlock, psychic knife over his head. "Release Logan or this boy suffers," she says coldly.

Behind Psylocke stand Rouge, Banshee, Shadowcat, Amara, Roberto, Rahne, Danielle, Illyana, and Forge. I hide my relief; I was beginning to fear that Rose would actually pull this off.

Rose's eyes narrow. Rouge is holding the young girl—Mesmerize, wasn't it?—who had done something to Sam. Banshee is watching the shadows, his mouth open and ready. Everyone else seems to have already fired up their powers, understanding the seriousness of this threat.

"Release him first," she says finally, regally, but I can smell her nervousness and anxiety.

"Wrong answer," Psylocke says as she brings her psychic knife down.

Rose suddenly grows, hair becoming a large mane. Sharp canines explode downwards, making her look like a sabertooth tiger. Faster than I see or notice, she throws a dagger, which lodges deep into Psylocke's arm, throwing off her aim. Meanwhile, she continues to grow until she is Sabertooth's height, eyes pure red. Bone claws pop out of her arms, identical to mine, and she leaps forward with an angry roar.

Banshee bounds forward, sonic wave blasting forth. Rose suddenly disappears, and the four year old child and I are thrown against the wall. The young girl moans, trying to get up, but cries out in pain. Her leg doesn't look right.

"Mire!" a young boy cries, and suddenly a tiger is in the room, jumping at Banshee in wordless anger.

Rahne soars up to meet him, transforming into her wolf-state. The two crash in midair to fall onto the ground, clawing and roaring at each other.

Rose suddenly appears behind Psylocke and rips Cougar from her hold. She deposits him on the ground and swipes her razor-sharp claws at Psylocke, who jumps backwards.

Amara moves forward, Roberto by her side to protect Banshee's flank. The cloaked figure moves close to them, cautiously, before opening the front of his cape.

Intense darkness covers the room, blinding all. I switch to sounds and scents to find my way around and suddenly feel someone run pell-mell into me. I instinctively grip whoever it is, and am rewarded by a whimper.

"Please, please, don't hurt me, I'm just trying to find my older brother—"

"Cub! Cub!" a voice calls over the pandemonium that fills the room. The little child in my hold struggles, hard, and I feel my heart twist. Bending down, I ask, "Why's Claw so interested in her stuff?"

"They're important to her, please, we only want to leave, to help her—"

Something heavy barrels into me. The little child is torn from my grip. "Cub, get to the window and get out! Transport's waiting for you, and tell him that Claw ordered him take you out of here. It's too dangerous now!" a new voice orders.

"But my brother—"

"Claw won't let anything happen to Leo!"

I push off of the ground, slamming into the newcomer.

There is a howl, and Banshee's screech carries over to me, knocking both my catch and I into a hard surface—probably the wall. I wince and stand, carefully making my way to where most of the beds are. I hit against a chair and grope until I feel Cyclops's arm. Following it up, I find his neck and yank off the necklace. Slicing through his bonds, I leave Cyclops and feel my way to a bed.

I begin to vigorously shake whoever it is, and feel a crackle of lightning run up my arm. "Storm, get up and see if you can get some light into here," I tell her before moving to the next bed.

I feel the long brown coat and know who this is. "Get up, Cajun."

A hand jumps up to my throat, and I snarl, "Cajun, I'm not the one you should be choking."

Remy's voice asks from the darkness, "Logan?"

"No, your fairy godmother. Get up."

The light suddenly returns, blinding me momentarily. I adjust rapidly, and see Rose lying on the floor, and Rouge is frozen, eyes growing silver as she grows, and claws pop out of her arms.

"Oh, great," I snarl.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Remy**_

I awaken with a dull headache, but my cut arm and bruised leg doesn't hurt anymore. Miraculously healed, I briefly gape at the scene of utter chaos around me. There are tons of kids pouring out the window, mostly younger than ten, and suddenly the flow stops. The window closes, and only ten kids remain: a vicious feline/human male who is scrapping with Forge; a green skinned and tall boy who is fighting with Danielle; that strangely dressed girl, Tessa; a winged girl; a cloaked boy lying on the floor; a wiry thin boy who is fighting with Banshee and Roberto; twin girls who move in synchronized patterns and are effectively holding back Illyana, Amara, and Shadowcat; a morphing boy who is fighting with Rahne, and Claw, or Rose, lying on the floor, surrounded by Rouge, who isn't looking so good, and Psylocke.

I sit up and carefully stand, making sure my leg doesn't give out, and turn to see Wolverine pull off a necklace on Peter and turn to Jubilee.

I walk over to help Banshee and Roberto. The raven haired, pale skinned boy barely acknowledges my entrance into the fray; he is wrestling with Roberto while Banshee is trying to get in a few shots. I reach into my pocket and pull out my cards.

The boy flicks his eyes over to me and throws Roberto into me before leaping at Banshee, twisting around to grab Banshee's neck and ride piggyback.

"Gambit, you're in the way!" Banshee yells at me.

"_Stop_!"

Everyone freezes, and all that can be heard is the panting of the weary. I glance up to see Cyclops standing, angrily. He walks over to where Rouge is collapsed on the floor, panting, eyes rolling. "Get Rouge to a bed. The rest of you, come. Wolverine, grab Rose, or Claw, or whatever her name is, and hold her tight. Dani, get everyone up. On Professor X you'll find a necklace, and you have to take it off for him to wake up."

He walks out stiffly, and slowly everyone glances at each other. Wolverine moves fast and scoops up Claw.

All the nine kids turn on him, but he places his fist above her head and slides his claws a little way out. "Go 'head, see how far you get. Rouge 'ere sucked all of Claw's mutant powers, so she won't heal."

Slowly, grudgingly, they back off and follow Logan out. Roberto drops to his knees, panting hard. Forge doesn't do quite a dramatic scene, but he trembles visibly. Danielle and Shadowcat lean on one another.

Psylocke helps Rouge to a bed. I come over and ask worriedly, "Wha's wrong, _chère_?"

She looks at me wildly. "I can't control it, LeBeau! It's all snarlin' an fightin' an I can't do nothin' ta quiet it down!"

I hold her carefully, being sure that there is cloth between my skin and hers. "Shh," I whisper, stroking her hair. "Y' c'n do it, I know y' c'n."

Her eyes roll, pupils wide in the bright light, sweat making her skin glisten. "Remy, it's like—like—like some'n caged up a pair o' wild beasts, an' they fightin' it out in my mind! There's nothin'—I can't—it's too much!"

I bend down to hold her but Storm grabs my arm. "Go with Logan. The girl knows you more than anyone; I could tell that in the way she took care of you herself. Logan may share genes with her, but he does not share a past with her."

I start to protest, but before I can, Jubilee grabs my arm and drags me out. I fight for a moment before allowing her to continue towing me into the quiet library. Scott stands there, holding a cup of tea. Logan sits, tense, on the edge of his chair, with Claw pinned to him. His arm never leaves her temple, his silver claws flashing in the low light. The nine other children slink around the edges of the room, one eye on Claw, the other on Scott, Logan, and Psylocke, who sit regally on the sofa, ignoring all. I know they are really analyzing every person and filing that data away for reference, and that their cool and polished demeanors are bluffs.

"Remy, can you talk to them?" Scott asks. Weariness lines his voice like lead, and I cock my head.

"Why me, _homme_?"

Logan jerks his face towards the dark shapes that restlessly prowl the room. "They won't answer our questions."

I raised my eyebrows. "An' y' t'ink dey answer mine?"

Psylocke settles her cold gaze onto me, and I sigh. Turning to the closest shape, the feline-looking boy, I ask, "What's yer name?"

His green orbs narrow, and his lips lift. A slight hissing sound emanates from his throat, a definite warning.

I ignore it. "M'name's LeBeau, Remy LeBeau. I met Claw few nights ago." I smile as I remember her queenly manners. "She's really somet'in'. Reminds me o' little like Jubilee, y' know?"

The boy looks me over, puzzled. I thank God that he took interest in my chatter and continue, "See one-eye, over dere? Dat's Cyclops, 'r leader. Y' ever 'ear o' de X-Men?"

His ears stand on end, the tiny tufts of lynx-like hair quivering. His eyes grow wide, and he opens and closes his mouth several times before whispering, "Holy mother'o God—"

Most of the others had tightened considerably at this declaration. I wonder what it was about the fact that we were X-Men that startles them so.

He still looked stunned, and for a moment I wonder if he will faint, he's so pale. Then, abruptly, all his color floods back at once, and a fiendish smile lights up his eyes and face. "We almost had ya," he says, as much in awe as astonishment. "We almost had ya out, an' if Cougar—"

The wiry thin boy, matted, tangled brown hair flopping into his eyes, pale white skin looking as if it's never seen daylight, leaps at him. "Yeah, it's always my fault, ain't it? Well, listen here, Leo, the reason we're in this mess is 'cause you _put_ Claw inta this—"

The two fall on the ground. Alarmed, I jump up, ready to pull them apart. Almost immediately, the twin girls stand in my way. "Leave them. You want answers, talk to Cloak or Tessa."

Neither I nor Psylocke seem to believe that it is all right to leave them scuffling on the floor. Logan, however, ignores the two boys and turns to the strange girl who stands calmly by the door. "Why did you come here?" he snarls. "I want answers, and if I don't get them soon, I—"

Tessa smiles serenely. "We came to help Claw. When Cloak saw she went off our sensors, he scoured your grounds for her. She had always wanted to explore your private lands. He found you carrying her into this house. We knew you were a strong group of mutants; there were some of us who really guessed who you were. So we brought everyone we could get available at the moment."

"How many _was_ that?" Scott asks, incredulity in his voice.

The green skinned boy who stayed by her smiles mockingly. "Close to sixty different aged kids."

Jubilee blinks. I am as surprised as she is; he had said 'everyone available at the moment', which meant that there were sixty kids with nothing better to do but come after Claw?

"Who is she?" Logan asks.

The cloaked boy shrugs, features obscured by his hood. "No one really knows. She's had so many false identities made for her, so many nicknames she's used— everyone knows her through different aliases. We know her commonly as Claw, due to her claws in her arm, fingers . . ."

He trails off and sways slightly. All the children seem to be stunned momentarily, until a few seconds pass. Then Cougar and Leo get off the ground, Tessa takes a step forward, and the kids group together.

Logan recognizes it before any of us did; he snarls and grips Claw harder while fully unsheathing his claws. Cyclops has enough time to get his hand up to his glasses before they launch themselves forward.

Tessa is the fastest; none of us had reacted quick enough for her. She lands, one bare arm draped around Logan's neck and the other around Claw's. They collapse into an unmoving heap.

Cyclops' beam slashes out, but the twins dodge and weave, slipping like eels out of the way. Psylocke is beset by Cougar, Leo, the green skinned boy, and the cloaked boy.

I reach for my cards, but the winged girl gently grasps my hand. "No," she says quietly. "Don't worry; we wouldn't want to hurt the X-Men even if we could."

"Wha' y' doin', _fille_?" I hiss.

The morphing boy slides up, tightly gripping Jubilee's hands, preventing her from using her 'fireworks'. "We just want to get Claw and leave; she'll just haveta live with a police record the size o' Texas." He snorts angrily. "All of it's her fault, anyway."

Psylocke is finally pinned under the mass of bodies. She glares at everyone, eyes narrowed, her mouth firmly held shut by the green skinned boy. Cyclops is held face down on the floor, the twins carefully making sure that he is completely immobile. The winged girl glances at me doubtfully. "I need to get Claw," she says slowly. "Can I trust you to keep still?"

I nod slowly, eyeing the distance between me and Cyclops. I would have no chance that way. I'd have to jump to Logan and get him away from Tessa's touch.

She turns her back to me, and I leap, rolling, cringing inside myself; they had trusted me enough to not to force me to comply. She whirls, eyes flashing with anger and triumph. I grab Tessa's ankle and yank, dragging her off of Logan and Claw.

Tessa doubles on herself, twists around, and grips my bare cheeks. Suddenly, her face fills my vision, and I can see nothing else. I sink into white oblivion . . .

_**Rose**_

I twitch, my power slowly reloading into my body. Logan is lying beside me, eyes wide and pupils shrunk. Tessa had gripped both of us under my telepathic orders; him, to prevent him from skewering me, me, to buy me some time and revitalize my mind if not my strength. I see him start to move, and I stumble to my feet as well. My breath is harsh in my throat, and my side aches. My strength is slowly fading; it hurt too much to make that transformation, teleport, and utilize my superhumanly quick reflexes all at the same time. But I had managed it, and I would keep up until I couldn't anymore.

Osprey, wings spread like a cape, looks me in the eye defiantly. "I told you," she said, black eyes glittering in triumph. "I told you they couldn't be trusted. He tried to attack the minute I turned my back."

I cough, throat raw. When I regain my breath, I stand up to her, lock gazes with her. She is taller than me, almost reaching six feet, ten inches, but she can not best me, ever. There is no way. Reluctantly, she averts her gaze and backs up a step.

"Good." I nod decisively. "I'm still leader around here. Now, I say that they're trustworthy. Do you have any doubts?"

Osprey mumbles, "No."

I turn to Strongarm. "Strongarm, let her mouth go."

He lets his hand slacken. The purple-haired woman glares at us.

"Now, you asked questions already, right? Who are you?"

The woman turns her face from me.

I sigh and turn to look Logan in the face. He is a scant inch shorter than I am, but he glares at me with all the ferocity I have pinned in my heart. "Can you explain to us?"

"Why won't you just listen, for once?"

I spin around, hands immediately coming up and my claws sliding out beneath my fingernails. Hank stands there, as well as the two boys that Mesmerize and I had knocked out.

"I'm Bobby, and this is Sam. We'd like to speak with you, without holding one of you hostage and without worrying that you'll jump up and slit our throats." He is holding my locket, jacket, and boots.

I make a tiny gesture. Strongarm, Cougar, Leo, and Cloak slowly get off of the purple haired woman. I incline my head slightly, and the twins, Flame and Rain, reluctantly get off of Cyclops. I give Blink a glance, and he slowly lets go of Jubilee's arms. Tessa doesn't need my signal; she, Cloak, and Cougar know my thoughts almost before I project them. She lets go of Remy's face and took a place behind me, by my left shoulder. Strongarm takes up a place by my right shoulder, and Cloak slides into the shadows to travel right behind Bobby and Sam.

"Give me my stuff and I'll go," I say coolly.

Cougar stalks up to my side, like an affronted cat, and glances at me. _angercontemptworryhelp?LEAVE NOWplease?Swipe? _His thoughts, as always, as anyone's, are jumbled and mostly random feelings, but I put them together to form the sentences he's telling me. _Swipe, I'm angry, and these people can't hold us if they wanted too. Do you need help? I want to LEAVE NOW, please?_ is basically what he's saying. I smile slightly. Swipe is the name he calls me, just as Alphii is what Leo calls me. I nod imperceptibly, eyes jumping from the window to my possessions then back to the window. He sighs slightly; he understands that I won't leave until I have my stuff.

"You may have your stuff once you've—" Hank began.

I sigh, my head aching. "Look, okay? I'll leave tonight, and you won't ever see me again. I wasn't planning on staying at that stupid orphanage anyway; it was just a transition process. I can skip it. You already know who I am."

Blink comes up beside me, opposite of Cougar, and the twins take up a place behind my back. Leo creeps in front of me, crouching down and eyeing everyone around me. Osprey stands in the far back, past Strongarm, Tessa, and the twins, with her wings spread to create a menacing background. I smile thankfully; they had sensed my weariness and had gathered around me to lend me their strength.

Cyclops groans and gets to his knees, back stiff. Psylocke jumps to her feet instantly, in indignation. Jubilee rubs her arms and glares balefully at Blink, who studiously ignores her. Logan eyes me thoughtfully, seeming to understand what my lieutenants had done by surrounding me. Bobby and Sam watch me warily, and Hank glares at me with barely concealed anger. Cloak slips through the shadows behind them, watching me anxiously for a signal to grab my stuff.

I examine my forces. Strongarm doesn't seem to be that exhausted; he will probably still be handy in a fight. Cloak is in the perfect position to grab my stuff and run. Flame and Rain are holding hands, each looking the opposite way. They're near exhaustion, I can tell, but they still have fight left in them. They think Cyclops is cute and strong; I can tell from the way they watch him avidly. Osprey is angry with me right now, but also wants to prove to me that she is a good fighter; she'll still put out three to five people before tiring out. Cougar seems to be the most tired; I understand that, for he must've come straight from his last assignment to be here, without any rest. I have to watch him carefully; he is too winded to be a good card in a fight. Leo is the same; his last assignment had ended only a few hours earlier, I know. Tessa's power is worn out from attempting to hold both Logan and Remy minds; she won't be able to pull her "skin contact equals mind control" trick again. And Blink? He seems to be infatuated with Jubilee, just as Bobby seems to be admiring me. That can prove to be a problem.

"No, it isn't like that at all," Cyclops says, glaring at Hank. "We just are a little, um . . ."

"Worried?" Cougar supplies cockily. "Face it, a buncha kids managed to wrangle the 'mightiest mutant force on earth'."

Sam blinks in surprise. Psylocke grins, teeth showing. "Now, we never claimed to be the mightiest on earth. That seems to be an opinion."

Cougar opens his mouth but stops, glancing at me. I shake my head gently, and he subsides, dutiful for the moment.

My senses register the sound before my brain did; I whirl around, once more ready to attack and thoroughly sick of all the adrenaline that has been coursing through my body this night. But it is only Remy, getting up off the floor. Tessa had touched him, which had nearly destroyed her; some minds are too hard to hold onto. I doubt that any psychic ever looked into Remy's head without suffering severe backlash. Even Tessa had experienced just a little, and she wasn't even trying to read him, just control.

He smiles crookedly at me, but I keep my gaze aloof and angry toward him. Osprey catches that in my gaze, and glares at him proudly, happy that I think she is right in thinking Remy isn't as trustworthy as my first impression had been. I know she sees that, just as I know what type of reaction she will give me. I also gambled on Remy's reaction. He might or might not care about whether we thought we can trust him, but I am leaning towards that he does, which means he will do anything to prove that he does want our trust, our friendship. Well, maybe not _everything_, but pretty close. He has a really sweet heart underneath, like Strongarm and Cougar.

I glance towards Tessa, asking her with my eyes what she thought my next course of action. She blinks once, twice, inclines her head, nods slightly, then looks around, letting her gaze sweep over everyone in our group. I smile in relief; she had agreed to the fact that none of these X-Men would really hurt us. If we can get them to give us rooms, then get Cloak to talk to the rest of our group, tell them we're fine, and rest enough to get our systems back on track, we'd be set to jump continents for a while until they forget about us.

I bite my lip in a worried manner, glancing from face to adult face, slipping into my best actress role, eyeing each one. "Do you know someone by the name Michael Slater?"

Logan cocks his head sideways. Cyclops slowly shakes his head, and Hank leans forward, a little more interested. "I'm sorry, no," Cyclops looks at me strangely. "Why?"

I shrug nonchalantly, putting enough weariness in my actions that even the dumbest of humans could pick it up. "Never mind; I couldn't find out anything either. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. If you'll just give me my stuff, I'll be leaving—"

"No, you must be tired. Why don't you stay for a while; we'll look him up. We have rooms if you want—?"

I turn, eyes narrowing on this new person. Storm, isn't it?

Glancing around uncertainly, I hedge, "Well, I don't think you—"

"Nonsense. How many rooms would you like?" Storm motions for us to follow and I begin to 'reluctantly' trail her.

"One, please."

Storm raises an eyebrow but does not ask the obvious question. She leads us through a maze of hallways, which I know Leo is committing to memory, before stopping at a door. She opens it and waves us in. "We'll sniff around to see what we can find. You rest for a while."

The door closes behind her. I take in the chamber: There is one big bed in the far corner, but the floor, shaggy rug ignored, is bare otherwise.

I glance at the ceiling before flicking my eyes to Osprey. She closes her eyes and begins to sense for any spy equipment. I give the briefest glance to Cloak, apology mixed into the command, before he nods and slides into the floor. I glance at the sheets left on the bed and motion to the others vaguely before sitting cross-legged in the center of the floor. They understand; Flame and Rain grabs one huge sheet and crumples it up into a mattress, sort of, and Tessa, sighing, grabs up the pillows and scatters them on the floor. Strongarm begins to situate the blankets in a seemingly random pattern, but each pillow or blanket is set in a way that, when we lay down as a group, everyone will have something soft available to them it they wish.

Cougar and Leo, catching my encouraging nod, come around me and lay down on their stomachs, Leo's head by my left knee while Cougar's head by my right. Since they are the most exhausted, I have let them lie down first. I place a hand on their spines and gently massage their tense muscles. "How long did you get to rest before coming out here?" I ask softly.

Leo shifts under my hand and sighs. "Four hours."

Cougar snorts into the cradle his arms have made for his head. "A half an hour."

I chuckle slightly, but continue to stroke their backs. It's my job to make sure they have relaxed enough to sleep; I'll do this with everyone of my people before I lie down and take my rest as well. Our community is based on touch and flesh; contact with one another gives a sort of feeling of acceptance. I continue to rub their muscles, expertly relaxing them. Cougar sighs slightly, and I feel the tension drain from his body.

Leo wriggles slightly, curling around me, molding his body around mine so that his knees were touching my back and his head is leaning against my knee. He's the second youngest of all my commanders, and I often forget he's only eleven. I continue to massage their bodies, not stopping even when Osprey comes up to me.

"Just a camera; no sound. We should be fine." Osprey looks expectantly at the floor, which is now set up comfortably. Strongarm, Blink, Flame, Rain, and Tessa also glance at me hopefully.

I eye them before nodding, smile evident in my eyes. They return smiles, exhaustion showing clearly through their bodies, before stretching out on the floor. Osprey lies in front of me, her wings brushing my knees and Cougar's and Leo's heads. Flame and Rain lie to my left, behind Leo, flopping on top of one another, snuggling up against Leo's back. Tessa slips a necklace out of her shirt and snaps it on before getting on the floor, squirming as close as she can to me without squishing Cougar, who is in front of her. Strongarm curls into a ball behind me, his back pressing against mine, bordered on both sides by Leo's and Cougar's feet. Blink looks over the reclining bodies before managing to squeeze between Osprey's body and mine, so he's in direct contact with me. I gauge how deeply asleep Leo and Cougar are, and when I'm satisfied that they are fine, I turn my attentions to Tessa, Flame, and Rain.

I rub their backs, humming slightly in the back of my throat. I feel Cougar's body stretch against mine as he takes in a breath; then feel it deflate slightly as he breathes out, long and relaxed. Tessa smiles at me gently; though she looks older than me (she's nineteen while I look fifteen), I am much her senior in years as well as experience. Flame and Rain move under my administrations, murmuring happily to each other in whatever language they speak naturally. Glancing at Tessa and determining that she's fine, I move that hand over to Blink, rubbing up and down his spine, gently messing his hair, before traveling down and stroking in circular motions in the small of his back. He smiles sleepily at me before dropping off into slumber.

When I am assured that they will sleep fine, I run my hands over Osprey's back, gently itching under her wings just the way she likes it, and Osprey sighs, smiling, before falling asleep. I glance over the bodies before twisting around to face Strongarm.

He looks at me with his gentle, golden eyes. "Kill two birds with one stone?" he murmurs.

I smile slightly before tossing my hair. "I have no idea what you mean," I whisper as I move both my hands over his back and sides.

He sighs, tension fleeing from his body, as he turns his head away, so that he has his head tucked under his arms and against his chest. "Fine. Keep up your pretense."

I grin fondly at him. Strongarm has been my most loyal general ever since I first joined up with the Community; he was the first to agree to follow me when I went to find that address from my locket and found the trap there. He literally saved my life, and when he brought me back to the Community, had nominated me for leader. It wasn't the one thing I craved, but I saw the sorry state the Community was in, and I knew how to shape them up. Through the five years that I'd overseen the Community, he had stood behind me, offering support and understanding.

I had just gotten Strongarm to sleep when Cloak pops up, tired and swaying with fatigue. I sympathetically edge Tessa's body closer to Osprey's and Blink's and gently move Strongarm closer to Flame and Rain. The ensuing space is just big enough for him to curl up into.

"Transport knows and won't come after us," he mumbles.

"Shh," I say softly, my hands running over his back and sides, kneading and massaging. "That was too much to ask of you."

He laughs softly, weakly. "Always taking the blame, Raptor?"

I grin at his reference to my name. That was the first name he had come to know me by, and he always uses it, knowing what memories were attached to it.

"Always."

He smiles, sighs, and slips into sleep.

I tiredly glance over my people, making sure they are secure and safe. Carefully, I stand and make my way over to the giant blanket. Cougar snarls softly, not feeling my weight against him anymore, and Leo turns restlessly, but I ignore them for the moment. Dragging the blanket behind me, I draw it over our group like a tarp, preventing any of us to be seen, and then drop it once I have completed that. Eyeing it until I am sure that it sufficiently covers everyone, I slip under it and crawl to my space. Squirming between Cougar and Leo, who stop tossing as they felt my familiar weight slide in beside them, I allow myself to fall asleep.


End file.
